


An Act of Kindness

by whitetiger91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Character Death, Death Eaters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Good Death Eaters, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitetiger91/pseuds/whitetiger91
Summary: Belenus Nott was only ever described as a former Death Eater until his wife's funeral. On that day, he became known as both a Death Eater and a wife killer. It was the price of committing a selfless act for his wife and he would gladly do it all over again, sooner.





	An Act of Kindness

**July 12, 1989, Present day.**

"As we commit Rosalie's body to the ground…"

Belenus Nott maintained a stiff pose as the celebrant continued the eulogy, not tempted to blow his nose or snivel into a handkerchief like the many witches and wizards around him. His dark brown eyes stared at the white marble casket, watching it being lowered into the ground. There was no point in acting like an emotional wreck, even if he was torn apart inside. No one would believe his grief.

Turning his attention away from the casket, he met the accusing stares of the guests. It wouldn't be long after the funeral that the whispering would start up again: gossiping witches thinking they knew how Rosalie had really died, their husbands wondering if the Dark Lord had returned and had a hand in this.

Yes, Belenus was well aware of the rumours that he had murdered his wife. That he had killed her in a fit of rage because she had displeased him; that he couldn't shake his former Death Eater ways. The truth was, they were right. He had killed his wife, and his only regret was that he had not done what he had sooner.

* * *

**August 29, 1988**

Belenus tapped his foot against the hard stone floor, his arms folded as he looked around the tiny, white room. He had been in an important meeting with a few goblins, just about to close a deal, when the owl had flown in through his office window. A letter had been attached to its leg, urging him to go to St Mungo's because his wife had been taken ill.

Now, as he waited by the door for the Mediwitch to finish the whispered conversation with his wife—who, lo and behold, was well enough to sit upright in a chair—he wondered why he had rushed out of the meeting. Rosalie looked fine, albeit slightly more pale than usual. She had probably only fainted from the stress she had put herself under this week. His wife had a strange habit of wanting to oversee the running of their manor herself, including the cleaning. He had told her several times to leave the hard work for the house-elves, yet it seemed she hadn't obeyed him.

"So, is Rosalie going to be alright or should I continue to wait around doing nothing?" Belenus asked.

The Mediwitch gazed up at him and blinked. "Oh, my apologies, Mr Nott. Please, have a seat, I'm afraid I need to speak with you."

Belenus raised a thick eyebrow and looked at his wife. Rosalie shot him a small, nervous smile, her light blue eyes holding an emotion he didn't recognise. She held her hand out to him, and with a sigh, he crossed the room and took it, sitting down next to her.

"If you are about to tell me that my wife needs rest, do not bother, as our family already has several house-elves on hand to—"

"Please, Mr Nott, it isn't about that. Well, not exactly," the Mediwitch said, fixing her dull green eyes upon him.

He narrowed his own eyes. He opened his mouth to rebuke the witch for the interruption, but, upon feeling Rosalie squeeze his hand, he closed it once more.

The Mediwitch took a deep breath, glancing at Rosalie, and continued, "I'm afraid your wife is unwell. No, please, let me finish." Rosalie squeezed his hand again as he rolled his eyes at her obvious statement. "I'm afraid it is more than the simple exhaustion you have mentioned. Unfortunately, she seems to have developed some...spots on her liver."

Belenus blinked, turning to Rosalie. She looked away from him, cheeks red. Swallowing and turning back to the Mediwitch, he said, "So? These spots or whatever they are, you can cure them, can't you?"

The Mediwitch shook her head, pity—the very emotion Belenus detested above all else—shining in her eyes. "Your wife has a disease that is rather new to us, and from what we have seen...well, she is looking at living for another six months, possibly a year."

Belenus' stomach plummeted.

"Six months? Six months? This is ridiculous! Are we or are we not wizards?" he said, a nerve throbbing on his temple. Rosalie squeezed his hand yet again, but this time, he did not withhold his rage. In the company of other people or not, it was hard to remain composed when he was being told his wife did not have long to live because of some disease. Couldn't magic cure it?

"Please, Mr Nott, I must ask you to calm down. We do have options, as your wife and I have discussed."

Belenus surveyed Rosalie, who still refused to meet his gaze. He couldn't help but feel a little betrayed that she had not discussed this with him first.

"Well? What are they?" he asked, turning back to the Mediwitch.

"As I said before, we haven't really had too much experience with this disease. Nevertheless, there are things like aromatherapy and reflex therapy, and even a few herbal remedies, that can alleviate the pain, though it won't necessarily cure—"

"Pass."

"Mr Nott—"

"Is there anything that will actually stop this—this...disease? Wipe out the dark spots or whatever they are? My wife is not a quitter."

The Mediwitch blinked at him before clearing her throat. "Well, yes, there is a potion we're trialling—"

"What are the chances of it working?"

"Well, it's rather new, but the potion does seem like it could work, or at least prolong your wife's life."

"Good. We'll take the potion then." Belenus reached his hand out to the Mediwitch and snapped his fingers.

Instead of dropping a phial into his hand, the Mediwitch simply stared at him. Gone was the cool manner with which she held herself. The witch's eyes darted back and forth from him to his wife, before she looked down at her lime green work robes and began to pick at a loose thread.

Belenus huffed. What was the problem? Did they think that he could not afford the potion, that he would not willingly spend a few Galleons to save his wife's life? He wasn't a monster, and he certainly wouldn't be cruel to his wife for the sake of money.

The Mediwitch locked her gaze back onto his and cleared her throat. "You see, Mr Nott, the problem is this potion, well, there are many risks to using it. From what we have seen of its use, as well as getting rid of the spots, the potion has been known to cause other side effects. Namely things like loss of hair, including eyelashes and eyebrows, vomiting, diarrhoea, fatigue, rapid weight loss… even memory loss, in one of our patients.

"Your wife and I have spoken, and she has voiced that she would prefer one of the other treatments," she said.

Belenus looked to Rosalie once more, who finally met his gaze. He could see her eyes were teary. With a weak smile, she shrugged and said, "I know it's silly, but I just don't want to lose my looks or have any of those other things affect me. Especially if this is my last...last..." She took a deep breath. "Well, if I don't have long."

He watched her for a moment, drinking in her beautiful eyes and the way bronze flecks glittered in her hair when caught by the light of the candles above them. He couldn't imagine her beauty taken away from his wife by a potion. However, a larger part of him couldn't bear it if he had to live without her; every second with her was more important than something silly like looks.

"But the potion will work, you say?"

"Well, yes, it does have a good chance of eliminating—"

"Then we'll try it. My wife is not going to die from this."

His heart sunk as Rosalie took her hand away from his. Nevertheless, she did not protest further, and he hoped that she realised he was doing what was best for them. The Mediwitch blinked as he stood up, the plastic chair scraping across the office floor.

"Erm, alright, I suppose if you both agree..." she said, looking to Rosalie who simply nodded. "Ok, we'll Owl the first month's dosage as soon as the Healer modifies it to Mrs Nott's needs."

"Excellent. Good day," Belenus said, walking to the door.

It would be a good day, too; there was hope for his wife, and he would do everything to make sure she would survive.

* * *

**December 5, 1988**

A knock on the door startled Belenus, who had been shut in his office all day.

"Come in."

Glancing up from the copy of the Daily Prophet he was reading, he saw his wife enter the room, the sleeves of her robes slipping off her thin shoulders. Her hair was twisted into an elegant chignon, leaving him to wonder what the point of her constantly checking the mirror was. Really, she had nothing to worry about; the potion was working and his wife would survive if she would just rest and let it do its job.

"Belenus," she began, wringing her hands, "I'm afraid I forgot to owl ahead and make our booking at the resort. Would you mind Floo-ing them when you get the chance?"

"No need," he replied, eyes focused on his paper. "I've cancelled the holiday."

"You cancelled?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

Sighing, Belenus looked back up at his wife. "With everything going on around here, I think that it is best that we stay in the manor this Christmas. I have a few deals to negotiate in the next few weeks and Theodore probably won't know the difference if we go or stay. Besides, you need your rest, and I'm sure that you will agree with me when I say that you are in no fit condition to travel given your recent… stomach troubles."

Rosalie closed her eyes and moved towards the leather lounge, sinking into it with a sigh.

Grunting, he put down his paper and eyed his wife, wary that she might throw up for the third time that week. "What's wrong?"

"I was just hoping to go on this holiday. We hardly get to spend any time together, now; I really want to create some more family memories."

"Hmm."

"I've just been thinking, this potion I'm taking doesn't feel like it's working, and maybe if I switched to one of the other treatments, I might feel well enough to go on this holiday…" she finished, opening her eyes and smiling at him.

Belenus could feel a headache coming on. There was no way he was going to let her give up. "You're going to keep taking the potion. It will work."

"But, Belenus, what if I tried the herbal brew? Witch Weekly ran an article last month saying that Healers have begun to trial new methods—"

"The potion is the only thing that will work. I don't want to hear anything about this wishy-washy, non-traditional claptrap."

"Why are you so stubborn?" she shouted, standing up. "I'd rather do anything than obey your stupid curfews and stay cooped up here all day! I'm a full-grown witch, Belenus!"

Belenus raised an eyebrow as Rosalie swayed on the spot before falling back onto the lounge again. He was the one being stubborn? He knew the potion was her best hope, and it hurt him to see that she was so reluctant to continue using it. His heart gave a painful lurch as he watched Rosalie press her hands to her head, moaning.

Taking a calming breath, he stood and walked over to her. "Would it be kind of me to let you die without giving you a fair chance? Do you think I enjoy watching you suffer?"

Rosalie groaned. "Please, Belenus, just consider it."

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Belenus walked back to his armchair and picked up the paper. "We will have plenty of time for family holidays when you are better."

He hoped that she could not see the shaking of his hands as he tried to hold the paper straight. She would get better, she had to.

* * *

**July 2, 1989**

Rubbing his eyes, Belenus looked at his watch: five o'clock. Trailing his hands down to his chin, he felt the stubble of the beard he had not bothered to shave. He hadn't been to work for more than a week now, let alone left the room, save to visit the toilet or order one of the house-elves to bring him a meal. The latter was a waste of effort, for nothing seemed to taste the same to him anymore.

He turned his head to the bed where his wife stirred in her sleep. If his food tasted different, he could not imagine how Rosalie felt when she did manage to eat something. Damp hair now covered her forehead, escaping the confines of the headscarf she wore to keep the remaining tufts in place.

Belenus reached for her hand as Rosalie groaned, her eyelids fluttering. Opening her eyes, she smiled at him, and he felt his heart tighten. Though her eyes were no longer rimmed with the thick, black eyelashes he adored, he was happy to see that her blue eyes had not lost their beauty in this ordeal.

"Belenus…" she croaked, trying to smile up at him. He squeezed her hand as she pursed her lips, swallowing.

Belenus twisted around to grab the little phial sitting on the bedside table. The malachite-green liquid sloshed around as he turned back to her, ignoring the pressure she put on his hand. Rosalie was much too weak to take the medicine herself, and even if she wasn't, Belenus had a feeling she wouldn't take it anyway.

"Please." Rosalie lifted her free hand and tried to push the tiny bottle away. Her hand began to tremble, however, and she was left with no choice but to let it fall back onto the bed.

"No. You must take this, otherwise you'll—you just need to take it." Belenus was surprised to hear his voice crack, as though it were he who was sick. Clearing his throat, he tried to make his voice sound as strong as he could make it. "You have to live, Rosalie."

Rosalie closed her eyes and turned her head away.

"Rosa, please," he said, his voice faltering.

It was probably just as well that she had turned away, for he could feel the tears prickling in his eyes. It wouldn't do for him to appear so hopeless, especially in front of his wife.

"You need to get better, if not for me, then for Theodore. I am not capable of raising a son by myself, we both know that. Please, take the medicine." He knew he was resorting to manipulation, both by his uncharacteristic use of please—Belenus usually got what he wanted in any situation—and by bringing their son into the mix. Still, what he said was true; he couldn't live without her.

A sigh came from his wife and she rolled back around to face him. "Belenus, we have to be realistic. All that potion is doing is making me too sick. The chances of it working are slim, and I'm lucky to have survived this long," she said, shaking her head when he opened his mouth to protest. "I know you care, and I know you are scared—so am I, believe me. Please, the best thing you can do is allow me to live out my final days with you and Theodore in comfort."

Belenus blinked away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Through the blur, he could see the pain reflected in her eyes; he could see the desperation for him to understand. His throat felt tight and he wanted to turn away, yet found he couldn't.

"Belenus, please. Do me this one favour… no more potion."

He knew she was trying to manipulate him with her words, just as he had tried to do to her. Nevertheless, it seemed to work, given that his heart felt like it was tearing into a million pieces. He didn't want to lose her, to give up, to let her die. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to sacrifice his happiness and lose the most important thing to him?

Looking to the phial, he closed his eyes before tossing it across the room towards the crystal wastepaper basket. It missed its target, however, and green liquid trickled across the polished floorboards. Ignoring it, he locked his gaze on Rosalie, lifting her hand up to his mouth and placing a kiss on it.

"Alright, we'll do it your way. No more potion."

A small smile graced her lips despite the sudden shiver that overwhelmed her body.

"Thank you," she whispered, gripping his hand.

* * *

**July 12, 1989, Present day.**

Rosalie had only lasted a week after he had thrown away her potion, a final, jerky breath escaping her lips one evening as he and Theodore sat by her bedside. The week hadn't been wasted, however, as the three of them spent each day together. Rosalie had even managed to convince him to play Gobstones with Theodore whilst she took pictures—something he wouldn't have done otherwise.

"My mother will be dearly missed by my father and I. The love she gave us..."

Belenus' eyes travelled back to the small podium where Theodore had replaced the celebrant and was now speaking. His son spoke well for his young age, yet Belenus could not help but wonder why he was not abusing him for taking away his mother's only hope of survival. Or why Theodore was not publicly yelling at him for not listening to his mother in the first place; why he hadn't been kinder earlier and allowed more memories to form.

He wiped away the tear that slipped down his cheek. Was this the price of kindness?

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my uncle, Paul. A lot of research went into this, and though it is not explicitly stated what 'disease' (the term used loosely according to the Mediwitches) Rosalie has, it is implied that it could be cancer. In the last few years I've seen a few people die from different types of cancer (and even as I publish this I have found out that my grandfather has multiple benign brain tumours), and a big question asked was often whether or not to take chemo. Was it better to try and fight it, even if the medicine taken made them sick, or was it better to spend the remaining days creating memories with friends and family? I believe it is up to the individual who has the cancer, no one else. For the record, however, I do believe my uncle did the best thing for him by spending the time he did have left with his family, and I am proud of all of them for the choices they made during that difficult time.
> 
> Keep safe everyone and enjoy each day :) Xx


End file.
